#well on the bright side most of the plushies who were loose and packed up neat in a box

[plushie-lovey]

Storage unit plans got canceled btw. Idk why I bother saying anything about getting new things or doing things before they happen lol

[personasintro]

his secrets | ksj drabble

⏤𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴; your boyfriend has planned it all for your birthday with a couple of secrets up his sleeve, one particular that you almost find out

⏤𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨; seokjin x reader

⏤𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: fluff, established relationship

⏤𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 3.5k

⏤𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: strong language, making out, mentions of sex

𝘢/𝘯: commissioned by the sweet @ninjastef09​ for her friend and her upcoming birthday, happy birthday love!!! this one's for you!

The car comes to a halt before the engine is turned off. You're clueless where you're, the only thing your eyes are met is darkness, blindfolded by one of Seokjin's ties he barely gets to wear. It's the one your mom gave him on his birthday last year, maybe you should be offended that he's using it to blindfold you.

Dating for four years, you should be used to Seokjin's weird ideas. Some part of you wishes you could say that you are, but you're not. This man, whom you call your boyfriend, is capable of surprising you to this day – the perfect example of today.

You kind of assumed he planned something, considering it's your birthday. He kept typing into his phone, hiding the screen way before you could catch a glimpse of his secret plans, or suddenly tried to visit his parents but insisted on you not coming, which is weird. His parents loves you and he always brings you to visit them as well. He started to act weird, especially when he got home and said 'let's go' all of a sudden.

You barely got into Seokjin's car, being told to turn around before your eyes were covered by his tie and you were no longer able to see. The whole ride, you've spent perking your ears at the littlest sounds trying to figure out his secret plans. You even threw a casual kidnapping jokes which Seokjin laughed at, throwing something like 'I don't have to kidnap you, you're already mine'.

Safe to say, it messed up your heart a little. He has that effect on you, even though sometimes you consider your choice of boyfriend, especially that time when he started to tell his dad jokes at your uncle's birthday party. He did that for at least twenty minutes, laughing so hard that some guests even turned around to check if the sounds coming from his mouth are even possible. His face got all red along with his neck from the attention, but you know he secretly loved it. But you wouldn't trade him for anything.

“Is this really necessarily?” you ask, shifting the fabric against your closed eyes.

“Stop complaining, woman. You've been doing that enough for the whole ride.” you hear your boyfriend complain, and if your eyes weren't covered, he'd be flashed with your typical glare of irritation and maybe even by your middle finger as well.

“It seems like you're the only one complaining,” you mutter under your breath, knowing he heard you by the exhausted sigh he lets out. “Is this some kind of kink that I don't know of? Jesus Jin, if you wanted me to try this, you should've just said so.” you complain, knowing some part of you is joking but the other one is telling the truth.

“For fucks sake, it's because I didn't want you to see where we're going. This is supposed to be a surprise.”

Of course, you know. You just like to annoy him and when he sees the grin spreading on your tinted lips, he rolls his eyes but chuckles nevertheless.

He gets out of the car, the sound of closing door takes you by surprise before you can't hear a thing. That's until the door on your side is being opened, and breeze hits your face. He takes off your seat belt before he helps you to turn around, your legs hanging off the car as you feel him working on the knot of his tie. A few seconds later, and the fabric is finally pulled off your eyes which causes you to shut them right away from the brightness. Opening them again, you adjust them to the lightening before you see your boyfriend in front of you.

He's grinning at your frowned expression, licking his thumb before he's wiping off the mascara that got smeared under your eyes. The stupid tie ruined your makeup, but you don't seem to care because you know that deep down, you loved not having a clue where he's taking you. You were excited, even though you've spent the entire ride complaining about him blindfolding you and being kept in darkness.

But of course, Seokjin knew. That's why he didn't take your threats and complaints seriously. He knows your period is coming anyway, so you're more snappy and emotional than usual.

Curiously looking around, your brows shoot up in shock at the view your eyes quickly catch on. There is a beach that stretches miles along to the point you can't see where it ends, wild waves wetting the sand near water. There is no one, a few birds sitting on nearby stones before they fly away. It leaves you speechless.

“What do you think?” he asks, smug grin plastered on his juicy lips by your reaction. “Do you like it?”

The answer is most evident on your features, there's no need for words.

“I love it.” you tell him honestly, giving him a soft smile in return before he stretches his arm, helping you to hop out of his car.

“Let me just grab a few things.” he says, quickly making his way to the back of the car to open the truck.

You follow him, surprised by the stuff he managed to pack without your knowing. He pulls out a few beach bags, blanket you recognize very well – it's the one you bought on your holiday in Malta.

The memories there warms your heart almost immediately, remembering the two of you making love every night with incredible view from your hotel room, before you repeated the same thing in the morning.

You help him by taking one of those bags and a blanket, as you follow him to the beach. The breeze feels comfortable against your warm skin, making this hot weather at least somehow more bearable. The sand feels smooth and nice underneath your feet as the two of you make your way to Seokjin's planned spot. He stops, rationally picking a spot in natural shade before he motions for you to hand him the blanket. You watch him sprawling it on the sand, making sure there are no creases before you can sit down on it. He's pulling out a different containers and two plastic champagne glasses that makes you snort.

“What? The glass ones could break.” he exclaims, glancing at those champagne glasses he specifically bought for this occasion.

Watching him in amusement and adoration while he sets up everything, he finally sits down next to you with a bottle of champagne. He plops it open, having a difficult time to do that for a moment, before he opens it with a grimace and fear of getting hit by a cork.

“Thank you,” you tell him softly, watching the sparkling yellowish liquid being poured into your glass. “Not just for the wine, but for this. Thank you for taking me here.”

“Of course,” he says with a smile, pouring some to himself before he clicks your glasses against each other, grimacing when the sound isn't quite right. The both of you laugh at that, tasting the champagne with approval hum.

“How did you even find this place?” you ask him, carefully placing the plastic glass down as you lean against your hands, enjoying the scenery in front of you. But still, you find yourself looking at your boyfriend instead, finding it more beautiful.

He wears a white loose shirt, the first few buttons opened exposing his collarbones, which still manages to compliment his broad shoulders. His black hair is swiped back, showing off his forehead and honey skin. Denim shorts gives you the opportunity to eye his thighs muscles that you can't get enough of.

“I knew I wanted to take you here, but there are mostly a lot of people on the other side of the beach. I thought this would be much more intimate and special.” he explains, making you turn around to really see no one nearby.

You just hope he didn't pay someone to rent this part of the beach or something – as much as you try to save up money for bigger apartment, you're aware how capable of doing that Seokjin is. Where it comes to you, he never cares about money and buys you stuff without thinking, hence the huge unicorn plushie in your bedroom. He bought it when you were at amusement park last year and he saw you eyeing the huge toy. No matter how many times you've told him not to buy it and you don't really want it, he just came up straight to the man and paid not a small amount for it. Since then, it's laying on your bed and is thrown in the corner of your room when you go to sleep. It's too huge to sleep with it, and Seokjin already takes up most of the space in bed.

“You're amazing. You know that, right?” you ask him, dreamily gawking at your boyfriend who smugly grins, wiggling his thick eyebrows at you.

“I'd say I'm perfect. I'm pretty sure you wouldn't find a better man than me.”

Snorting, you shake your head in disbelief. “You wanna bet?” you joke, your time to wiggle your eyebrows at him as he dramatically frowns.

“No,” he says, leaning towards you. “I'm not letting you go,” he tells you before he pecks your lips, kissing them softly. He doesn't pull away, your noses brushing against yours as you silently giggle.

“I'm sorry but you're stuck with me for the rest of your life.” he murmurs, his tone light which causes you to giddily smile.

“I kinda liked the sound of that.” you whisper, not surprised when he dives back in and kisses you with much more passion, putting pressure onto your lips as they mold together perfectly.

He cups your jaw, pulling you even closer to him as you moan at the taste of him, his other hand grabbing your thigh. His touch feels electric, million jolts of joy and excitement going straight through your body, even though your thin sundress is the only barrier. Your hands automatically go to the back of his neck and head, tugging onto his roots earning a growl that's muffled by your mouth. The both of you are forced to pull away, trying to catch your breaths with flushed cheeks that's not caused by the heat.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, forehead leaning against yours as he pecks your nose. “I wasn't going for a beach sex.” he jokes, the two of you chuckling at the thought of it.

“I'm not opposed to that.” you beam, smirking as you see his widened eyes and him choking on his spit.

“Baby, don't do this to me. I might have to go into the water to freshen up myself.” he whines, sounding like a little kid in a toy store.

You don't provoke him any further, plopping some of the strawberries into your mouth as soon as he opens the container full of fruit. Enjoying the taste and the nice breeze, you close your eyes trying to soak in the warmness and relax, completely aware of what your boyfriend is doing. That's until you hear him saying a typical 'birthday song', holding a small cupcake with a single candle plugged in the pink topping.

The whole time he sings to you, you can't hide the huge grin and blush flushing your cheeks, trying not to cry when he's done. “Happy birthday, my love. I love you.” he tells you, totally prepared for your kiss full of love and gratitude, before he hands you the cupcake.

“Thank you, I love you.” you tell him, taking the cupcake as you blow off the candle.

“Wait, you didn't make a wish!” he exclaims, surprised how fast you've blew it off.

You stop for a moment, before you cup his cheek and caress it. “I already have everything.” you tell him, the corners of his mouth stretching so widely that his cheeks are puffed out.

He's so damn cute, your heart full of love just from the single sight of your boyfriend.

“I wanted to get you a birthday cake, but it'd melt on the way here.” he tells you, causing you to wave him off, silently telling him that it's okay.

You taste the topping, humming in approval noting he bought your favorite flavored one from your favorite bakery shop. You split it in half, making sure you share it with him despite of his protests. It's melting but it's still delicious.

“You know, thank you for doing this,” you start, gulping the last piece of cupcake as you notice Seokjin rolling his eyes dramatically. He hates when you keep thanking him, as he told you a million times. “I know, I know. I just feel like a bitch. I kept complaining the whole day and you've planned all of this, and I feel like a bad girlfriend--”

“Woah, woah,” he stops you right away, his eyes widening when he sees the tears in your own as you quickly wipe them off. “I did this because I love you. And it's your birthday. You deserve this for putting up with my ass on daily basis. This is the least I could do for you, you know I'd give you the world if I could.”

But his lovely words make you cry even more, and before you can realize they're ruining your make up again, streaming down your cheeks. You're being pulled into Seokjin's arms, his chin on the top of your head as he starts to laugh at your emotional state.

“I love you.” you murmur into his chest, sniffling slightly as he kisses you into your hair.

“I love you too, princess.” he tells you, kissing your hair again just to prove his point.

“Gosh, what are we going to do when we get old? We're going to bicker like that old couple in convenience store.” you sniffle, hearing his laugh vibrate in his chest.

“Are you saying we're going to get married and grow old?” he asks, a teasing tone behind his voice and when you pull away, you're met with his cheeky grin.

“Isn't that what you want as well?” you pout, wondering if you've crossed any lines.

You already live together, getting married should be another milestone and even though you had a couple of talks about a possible wedding, it was just that. A casual conversations between two partners.

“I want to, I want that so much,” he tells you, all cheekiness gone from his face as he stares at you. Frowning in confusion behind his weird change of attitude, you're pulled into another kiss before you're tossed over his broad shoulder, squealing loudly.

“What are you doing? Seokjin, put me down!” you laugh, hitting his plump ass before he smacks your own, walking towards the shore. “Don't drop me!” you panic, seeing the clear bluish water that looks incredibly beautiful, but very cold.

Even Seokjin's gasps are a proof of the real water temperature.

“I won't.” he assures you, but as he tries to put you down off his shoulder, wanting to hold you in his arms, he looses balance and you slip from his arms, catching you clumsily.

Luckily, the water isn't shallow, just up to Seokjin's knees but enough to soak the hem of your summer dress. Your body shakes from a shock of the cold water, before you glare at your boyfriend who nervously smiles at you.

“Sorry?” he says unsure, giving you a crooked smile.

You touch the water surface, before a smirk pushes onto your lips and before he can react, you splash him with a water. He yelps, surprised and almost falling onto his ass but manages to balance himself before he does the same thing to you. Both of you are laughing, completely getting soaked as he tries to chase you and dodges your every attempt to splash some water in his face again.

The sun is settling down, creating a perfect blaze above the water as it starts to get chilly. After playing in the water and eating the rest of fruit that Seokjin made an effort to pack, it's time to go home. Your clothes are still wet from your previous activity, haven't fully dried even with you moving to the sun. None of you have brought spare clothes, causing him to complain about the possible ruining of the leather seats in his car.

“It was your idea to drop me.” you remark, grinning when you see him gasp at you.

“For the tenth time, I wasn't planning on doing that. It just happened, this muscles are weak after holding you in the shower for good twenty minutes!” he exclaims, causing you to roll your eyes.

“It's your fault for interrupting my shower time and deciding that shower sex is the best idea.” you accuse him, a loud and dramatic gasp leaves his mouth as he dusts off the blanket.

“Have you seen yourself naked? It's hard to resist that ass.” he hums, sending a wink your way as you roll your eyes.

“I'm locking the door from now on,” you tell him, knowing you won't do that. You're just teasing him and he knows that, judging by the typical smirk decorating his lips. “Fuck, mascara is running down my cheeks.” you note, seeing your fingertips black as you try to wipe your under eyes.

Seokjin starts to fold a blanket, glancing at you in the process. “There should be a small towel in the glove box.” he tells you, throwing you a car keys which you successfully catch.

You listen to him, planning to go help him once you're done anyway, slowly making your way to the parked car. Unlocking the car, you open the door and listening to Seokjin's instructions, opening the glove box next. He was right. A gray small towel is folded on the top of other stuff as you wipe your face and ruffle your wet hair with it. It's already drying down, but you could use a hairdryer.

“Y/N,” you jump at the sound of your name, closing the glove box and turning to Seokjin.

He stands just a few meter away from you, a weird look darkening his features as he studies your face with a puzzled look.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, eyes shifting between your eyes as you frown in confusion.

“Yeah, weirdo,” you tell him, confused by the change of his attitude. “Have you packed everything?” you ask, noticing the bags and blanket in his arms as he nods.

“Yeah, let me just put it in the trunk so we can go.” he tells you, smiling before he makes his way to the back of the car and loads it with all the stuff.

You sit on the passenger seat with a mere confusion, waiting for him. Once he's back, he smiles at you and starts the engine. The radio plays some pop music while you watch at the scenery from the window, sad to be leaving but you hope you'll be back soon. You're truly touched by Seokjin's romantic idea of spending your birthday. It was minimalist, yet absolutely breathtaking and eventful. All you need is him, you can always celebrate it with your friends and family some other day.

Just as you're smiling, genuinely happy from today's day, until you see the huge red sign.

'NO TRESPASSING, VIOLATORS WILL BE PROSECUTED'

Seokjin speeds up, hoping you haven't seen the sign but when you exclaim his name in disbelief and anger, he knows he's busted.

“It's okay, princess. We haven't got caught.” he tries to reason, lucky he's driving and you can't hit him.

“I can't believe we trespassed!” you exclaim, wondering what could have happened if someone caught you. “You're crazy.” you mutter, shaking your head at him trying to hide a smile from him.

He takes your hand, interlocking your hands together as he kisses the back of your hand, hiding a grin.

But the warning sign isn't the only thing he hoped for you wouldn't see. That's the least of his worried. His heart is still beating with nervous shakes as he prays you won't open the glove box again, finding a small silver box with shiny ring inside of it.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, outtoshatter!

Dear @outtoshatter​. You requested fluff, getting together, alternate first meetings, and something!Stiles. This was so much fun to write, and I’m thrilled to have the chance to create something for you. I hope you have the loveliest of holidays!! <3

Read On AO3

*****

Derek is a romantic. He dreams of finding his mate, of connecting with that special someone who will make his heart swoon.

"How did you know Dad was the one?" Derek asks his mom as he digs out a pink, glittery bear from beneath the pile of loose-limbed plushies. "Were there fireworks when you first met, or—?"

His cheeks flame. He can't tell his mom that the spun-sugar scent of Jenna's hair makes his heart race, or that the smell of Mark's baseball jersey gives him a boner. In fact, Derek's embarrassment is so thick she probably scents it despite being surrounded by a bunch of seven-year-olds with sugar highs from birthday cake and soda.

"The first time you meet your mate will always be significant,” Talia says as she hands the bear over to one of Cora's classmates. “It might be passionate and explosive, or it could spark a bond that builds and grows. It's influenced by who you are and where you are in your lives. But deep inside, you'll know. Your wolf, especially, will know."

"But what if my mate isn't a wolf? What if they can't sense the connection?"

"Humans cherish the notion of 'true love' as much as we do. And I bet your mate is someone who's sensitive and wise." She leans down and ruffles Derek's hair.

Derek wriggles out of his mom's touch. He's thirteen, not three.

"You think?" he asks. Maybe it is Jenna or Mark, although he was hoping his mate would be someone more… well, special.

"You'll see." Talia's smile disappears as she studies the line where Cora and her friends are waiting at the stuffing station. She counts their numbers under her breath and shakes her head. "Someone's missing. Will you help me find them, Der?"

Derek sighs. It might be Cora's birthday, but he's missing practice to babysit a bunch of second-graders at a Build-A-Bear. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. I know this seems like an unbearable chore, but it means a lot to your sister that you're here. And to me, as well." His mom runs a hand along the back of Derek's neck and gives him a gentle squeeze.

Perhaps it's because it's close to a full moon, but Derek feels restless and edgy. Guilt washes through him at his snappishness, and he apologizes to his mom, giving her a quick hug before starting his walk-through.

There are bins of bears and cats and dogs and dragons in every color imaginable, their limp bodies waiting to be plumped up with poly-fill. He’s surprised Cora wanted a party here; her interests run more along the line of laser tag than dolls or stuffed animals. Although there's a backstory, he's sure; Cora had mumbled something about wanting to invite her whole class 'unlike that Lydia Martin', whereupon Mom's fangs dropped and her eyes flashed red. The next thing Derek knew, they had made a reservation for all twenty children.

It's not until Derek passes the displays of the Marvel and Star Wars bears that he finds the errant partygoer. Unlike the other boys in the class who dress in athletic wear stamped with Nike and Under Armor logos, he's wearing a faded t-shirt and a plaid overshirt, topped off by a pair of worn trainers.

Derek looks down at the limp plushie in the boy's hand. "Hey. Are you here for Cora's birthday party?" he asks softly.

The boy raises his eyes. They're ridiculously large for his face, amber orbs framed by long lashes and a buzzed haircut that make them look even bigger. Suddenly, they narrow as he looks Derek up and down.

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

Derek frowns, the defiance taking him by surprise. "Maybe I work here."

Any shyness the boy may have seems forgotten as he takes a step closer.

"No, you don't," he says, his tone raised in challenge. "You don't have a nametag and you're not wearing a vest."

The kid's smart. Derek is filled with the weird urge to push his buttons and protect him at the same time.

"You got me," Derek says, holding up his hands. "I'm Cora's brother, Derek." He points to the animal in the boy's hand. "Don't you want to wait in line with the others and get your bear stuffed?"

The boy straightens out his arm. "It's not a bear," he says. There's a slight hesitation, then he's turning the animal over. Derek sees that it has a long muzzle, pointed ears, and plastic blue eyes. "It's Can… um, Canis…”

"Canis Lupus. A wolf," Derek says, surprised.

The boy nods vigorously. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't it be?"

"I didn't know if I was allowed to get something that wasn't a bear." The boy hangs his head, his fingers digging into the wolf's ample fur. "I've never been to one of these parties before."

Ah. Another reject from Lydia Martin's party list. The news makes Derek inexplicably angry.

"If I was getting one, I'd get a wolf, too," Derek says.

The boy looks up, his earlier disapproval of Derek apparently forgotten. "Yeah?"

"Totally." Derek crouches down and strokes the wolf's fur. "It's pretty skinny though," he says as his hand lingers on the nape of its neck. "We'd better go and fatten it up. Maybe get it some clothes?"

The boy shakes his head. "Wolves don't wear clothes," he says, his exasperation plain. "Duh."

Derek snorts. "Well, how about one of those scent things?" The discs seem to be popular; most of the other kids have one in hand.

The boy lifts the wolf to his face and buries his nose in its fur. "Nah. He smells good the way he is. But he needs a heart."

"Okay. Let's get one, uh—"

"Stiles," the boy answers. "Stiles," he repeats with a small scowl as Derek stares, bemused. "That's my name."

"Oh. Okay, Stiles." Derek stands up and holds out his hand. "Let's go. We've got a wolf to build."

Stiles places his hand in Derek's. It's small and a bit clammy, but Derek doesn't mind, surprisingly. They head towards the front of the store where Stiles takes his time in choosing a red heart out of the bin of hundreds. There's another display close by filled with a selection of noisemakers.

"Do you want one?" Derek asks as Stiles stares. There's a lot to choose from. "They have some songs and animals noises, and—"

"They don't have any wolf ones, though," Stiles says, seemingly put out. He pushes one of the buttons, rolling his eyes as a dinosaur's roar breaks through the tiny speaker. He chooses the dog button next.

God, no, Derek thinks.

Thankfully, Stiles passes on that one, too.

"What about this one?" Derek asks, pointing to number eleven. When Stiles presses the button, they hear the lub dub of a human heart, steady and true.

Stiles' face breaks into a huge grin. "That's perfect."

Derek opens the drawer, takes out the sound chip and hands it to Stiles, who curls his fingers around its edges and holds on tightly. By the time they make it to the stuffing station, Stiles is bouncing on his feet, a bundle of barely contained energy. He's also staring with a horrified expression at a boy who's twirling in a circle while rubbing his bear's poly-filled heart across his chest and down to his belly.

"Uh, Derek? Do I have to do that?" Stiles whispers as a Build-A-Bear employee eggs the boy on.

Maybe it's the vulnerability in Stiles' face, or the wobble in his voice, but Derek wants nothing more in that moment than to soothe Stiles' worry. He leans over and whispers, "You mean, act like something's crawling up your butt?"

Stiles lets out a half-gasp, half-laugh. "I can't move like that! What if I do it wrong and his heart won't work?"

"Listen to me, Stiles. I'm thirteen and I know a lot about wolves. Rubbing your wolf's heart on your pants or doing ten jumping jacks isn't going to make him come to life. What he needs is for you to care for him. To love him, and believe in him with all your might. Okay?"

"Okay." Stiles gives Derek a grateful smile, his face radiating his happiness.

Derek stands a bit straighter and catches his mother's eye. He's sure it's his alpha's approval and nothing else that makes him feel warm and tingly inside.

~*~

Derek used to be a romantic. He once dreamed of finding his true love, of meeting that special person whom he could care for and be cared for in return. But a series of bad relationships with people who either wanted different things in life (sorry, Braeden), or were only interested in him for his family's powerful connections (thanks, Jennifer), or who were, to put it bluntly, vindictive, psychotic stalkers (hello, Kate) has left Derek realizing not everyone is destined to have a mate. Of course, that also means one of the great Hale legacies has come to an end, although he's not sure why the Fates decided to pin that dubious distinction on him.

He doesn't want to end up like his Uncle Peter who, after losing his mate, creeps around with people half his age, filled with snark and cynicism. So Derek tries to settle, without success. His friends and family blame his inability to have a meaningful relationship on 'being too choosy', or 'not trying', or his 'emotional constipation'. He supposes it's a damning statement when even his best friends have given up their matchmaking attempts and relegated him to babysitting duty.

Derek's trying to decide whether he has time for a quick run before he goes grocery shopping, or whether he has enough milk and butter to postpone the errand altogether, when an EMT kit lands by his feet.

"Any plans for tonight?" Erica asks. Her smile is a bit too bright, her tone a shade too innocent.

Derek frowns and gives his co-worker the side-eye as he tries to figure out her angle. He can't believe there was a time where he thought he and Erica could be anything more than friends. She's gorgeous, of course, but she's also too perceptive and blunt as hell, and she calls Derek out on his bullshit more than anyone else aside from his own sisters. She feels like safety—like pack—but his wolf knows there's nothing more. Besides, she's snagged herself a handsome and brilliant ED doctor in Boyd—along with a ring, a two-bedroom Murray Hill apartment, and a five-year old daughter.

"Catching up on the second season of The Mandalorian?" Derek grins, baring a toothy smile of his own.

"Are you thirty-five or sixty-five, Derek? Because seriously, I can't tell. And since you phrased your answer in the form of a question and this isn't Jeopardy, I'm assuming those plans aren't set in stone."

Fuck. Erica had promised after the last disastrous blind date that she wouldn't try to set him up again. "I'm really not in the mood for company—"

"Even if it's a little girl who loves her godfather more than anyone else in the world?"

Derek sits up straighter. "You need me to watch Hailey?" He couldn't love Erica and Boyd's daughter any more than if she were his own.

"If you're up to it," Erica says, actually looking contrite. "I know it's your first day off in almost two weeks and I normally wouldn't ask, except… Well, the New York Public Library's doing this Children's Authors series, and her favorite writer's going to be reading today."

"The Fox and the Spark? I'm somewhat familiar," Derek says drily. He's read the story so many times he could recite it in his sleep.

"Yeah." Erica lets out a small laugh. "So, there's a second book that's coming out and the author's signing copies. Boyd was supposed to take her, but he has to cover for someone who called out with a family emergency. Greenberg won't let me change my shift, and I know you just finished yours, but—"

Derek puts a hand on Erica's shoulder. Next to Laura, Erica's his closest friend, and it's not like he really had plans.

"Don't give it another thought. Of course I'll take her."

A wave of relief sweeps over Erica's face. "I owe you one, Hale."

Derek lets out a small huff. He's pretty sure that if they were keeping tabs, he's going to come out on the short end when it comes to Erica and Boyd. Besides, an afternoon out with Hailey is bound to be better than his last several dates, even if he has to put up with a bunch of screaming kids.

~*~

As it turns out, there are a bunch of kids, but none of them are screaming because the man in front of them's woven some kind of crazy magic and has them in his thrall. He has thick brown hair that's the epitome of hipster chic, a wide mouth that pulls into an easy grin, and is wearing a heather grey t-shirt paired with khakis and a red hoodie. He looks young—young enough that Derek thought he worked for the library at first, a notion that's dispelled once Mrs. Purcell, the head librarian, gathers everyone together. His smile is bright and engaging, although it falters a bit when Mrs. Purcell stumbles over his name.

"Mieczyslaw," the man says with a self-deprecating grin. "Like 'mischief'. But I'll tell you a secret. No one calls me that, not even my family. You can just call me 'M'."

The news seems to delight the kids, who shout "Hi, M" in a loud chorus. M shows his appreciation by running across the front of the room and handing out high-fives.

"Is that really him?" Hailey wriggles in Derek's arms and cranes her neck, trying to get a better look. The construction-paper fox ears that they super-glued to her headband earlier that afternoon gets pushed aside at a precarious angle.

"That's really him," Derek affirms, which earns him an excited squeal.

"Put me down, D!" Hailey says with all the imperiousness of her mother, and it's all Derek can do, even with his superhuman strength, to keep her from toppling over.

"You can find a spot up close. No pushing or shoving, and if you can't see, ask politely. I'll be back here, okay?" He leans in and nuzzles her cheek to let her know she's safe and protected.

"Okay!" Hailey gives him a quick squeeze back before making her way up front. Derek is glad to see one of the other girls make room for her as Hailey sits down in the second row and clutches her book happily.

Derek straightens and runs a hand through his hair. He feels someone watching, and when he looks up, he suddenly locks eyes with M.

M rubs the back of his neck as a light flush spreads over his cheeks. It doesn't help to diminish his already-youthful appearance; in fact, it makes him look vulnerable—like prey—and the thought causes something to flare hot in Derek's belly. It's only when someone nudges him impatiently that he realizes that he's gawking in the middle of the room, surrounded by a restless audience that comes up to his knees. Derek mutters his apologies, then takes his six-foot frame to the back of the room where he watches from behind a row of brightly colored, miniature plastic chairs.

M starts off by saying that his best friend Scott is a veterinarian who works at a wolf sanctuary, and that M always thought wolves were the coolest. The tidbit makes Derek straighten to his full height and he puffs out his chest, inordinately pleased.

Most of the children already own copies of M's latest but choose to watch as M holds up a giant book that's nearly a foot-and-a-half tall. The pages are filled with illustrations—courtesy, M says, of his friend Isaac. The pictures are warm and soft, and detailed in a way that appeals to both a young and older audience. But even though they're beautiful, Derek finds his attention drifting elsewhere. He's mesmerized by the way M's fingers dance across the pages as he reads, how his eyes grow bright and animated when he hears the children laugh at his vocal impressions, and the way M's mouth—god, his mouth—turns down at the corners when he reaches a poignant scene. His voice defies categorization: it's raspy yet young, melodious but slightly off-pitch, and serious yet mischievous, as if an old soul had somehow merged with an adolescent’s energy.

The truth is that Derek's too distracted by M to pay close attention to the story. But after his brain momentarily shorts out from watching M lick his thumb to turn the page, it manages to reboot and catch the his next words:

"You need to care for him," the fairy said as Milo hugged his wolf. "You need to love him and believe in him with all your might."

Derek listens in a daze as M tells the group how Milo's wish for his wolf to come to life comes true. His own wolf perks up, and against the stench of the colognes and soaps and sweat of the crowd, he can pick out the welcome scent of citrus and cottonwood from back home. It's intoxicating, yet soothing and breathtakingly familiar, and in that moment the thread of hope that Derek's long thought cut manages to wriggle into his heart and take hold.

~*~

Derek absolutely does not push his way towards the front of the line. He just has longer legs.

His heart is in his throat and he's holding tight to Hailey, who's clutching her copy of Build A Wolf close to her chest. Derek doesn't understand how he could have missed the signs: the smattering of moles that grace M's cheek, the adorable tilt of his nose, or the warm intelligence of his eyes.

"Hi," Derek says when they reach the table where M's seated, his voice catching.

The Sharpie that M's twirling lazily between his fingers falls with a clatter. M stares at Derek, seemingly lost for words. A beautiful pink flush highlights his cheeks that Derek wants to trace with his thumb.

"You're a bit older than my usual fan. Bigger, too," M croaks. His face turns even brighter, and Derek can smell his surprise and the faint spice of his arousal.

"Stiles?" Derek blurts out. Upon seeing M's shocked expression, Derek tries to backtrack. "I'm sorry, it's just… well, you remind me of someone I knew from back home." When M doesn't deny the assumption, Derek continues, "I'm Derek Hale. Cora Hale's brother?"

M scrubs his face. "Wow, dude… wow, yeah, I am." He looks around and lowers his voice. "I'm surprised you recognized me. Or that you even remember who I am." When he smiles it's small and embarrassed, but Derek can also detect the happiness that colors his scent.

"I know you're probably busy, seeing as you're on a book tour and all, but do you want to grab a bite after you're done?" Derek feels breathless, and it's totally unlike him to be so forward, especially in the midst of an increasingly antsy crowd, but he feels like he's been waiting for this moment forever. "I mean, it can be something low key," he adds hastily, in case he's laying it on too strong. "I haven't been home in a while and it would be nice to catch up, and—"

There's a strong tug on his shirt sleeve. "Hi, Mr. M," Hailey pipes up. She's wearing a sweet smile but her eyes are impatient and determined. "Can you sign my book for me?"

"Sure, I'd love to." Stiles gives Derek an apologetic look. He greets Hailey with a complicated fist bump after commenting on her fox ears, uncaps his Sharpie, and opens the book to the front page. "Who should I make it out to?"

"To Mommy and Daddy and Hailey," Hailey decides. She tugs on Derek's sleeve more forcefully. "Do you think Mommy will like that?" she asks in a loud whisper.

Derek bends down and kisses her forehead. "I think she's going to love it," he says, nuzzling her neck. When he stands back up, Stiles has finished signing, but his smile seems a bit forced. "So, about dinner..." Stiles doesn't answer immediately; Derek falters as he takes back the book, his hopes sinking with each passing second.

Stiles' eyes lower, his once-happy scent souring. "Sorry," he says, his expression unreadable. "I'm on a tight schedule."

Both the human and wolf sides of Derek are confused by Stiles' sudden rejection. "Maybe a drink?" he tries again, desperate. He may have been a terrible judge of character in his previous relationships, but he can't be wrong, not about this.

Stiles shakes his head. Before Derek can press his case, there's a cough as the father and son behind Derek fix him with matching glares. Derek and Hailey get shuffled towards the door, and by the time Derek regains his bearings and looks back he discovers that Stiles is posing for a selfie with the kid, his scent now off, his smile a bit too forced.

~*~

There are several truths about the holidays—and the end of the year in particular—which are that the crowds are larger, the stress is higher, and people tend to avoid hospitals as much as possible. It also means that Derek's unit is flooded with calls, from decorating mishaps and drunken shenanigans to medical emergencies that are so far gone they can no longer be handled by an urgent care. He hasn't hung out with both Boyd and Erica in nearly a month, and even though it's for a quick bite in the hospital's cafeteria, he'll take it.

"Seriously, Hale. You'd better have a smile on your face after your PTO."

Derek looks up from his burrito, his brows furrowed.

"I don't know why you think I have PTO, Erica, but I don't," he says, grimacing as a glob of beef and avocado drop onto the wax-paper wrap. He's never requested a holiday week since he started with the FDNY eleven years ago. His family's all on the West coast, and he'd rather leave the prime vacation weeks to his co-workers. It's not like he has someone special to share the holidays with, after all.

He ignores the ache in his chest as he thinks of Stiles.

"Yeah, well the thing is, now you do. The week between Christmas and New Year's," Erica clarifies as she takes a bite of her burger. "You never exercise the perks that go with your seniority, and don't think it's gone unnoticed. It's the department's gift to you. "

Derek stares, flummoxed. "Greenberg will never go for it."

"Are you kidding me? He was the first to say 'yes'. Said he's tired of seeing your grumpy mug whenever he rings in the New Year."

Boyd grins at Derek's obvious discomfort. Derek gives him the middle finger, which makes Boyd chuckle out loud.

"I don't even know if my family's around," Derek protests. Laura often spends the holidays with her husband's family in Sun Valley, and Cora's hard to pin down any time of year.

Erica and Body give him twin looks of guilt. "They are," Boyd says as he takes something out of his coat pocket and hands it to Derek. "We already spoke to Laura. She can't wait to see you."

"Ho, ho, ho." Erica grins.

"What's this?" Derek asks as he stares at the envelope in Boyd's hand.

Boyd shrugs but Derek's not fooled by his casual stance. "A first-class plane ticket. An early Christmas present from us to you." His usually placid expression grows sheepish. "Look man, we don't want to put you in a bad spot. If you really don't want to go, use the credit for another trip. But we knew that if it were up to you, you'd be spending Christmas alone, eating leftovers and watching It's a Wonderful Life for the hundredth time."

"Who says I need to be in a relationship to be happy?" Derek asks, his hackles rising. Besides, Boyd has it all wrong. Derek has Die Hard on his Christmas queue.

Yippee ki yay.

Boyd holds up both hands. "Not me. If you want to be a bachelor forever, I'm not one to judge."

"But I am," Erica says. "You don't date anymore, Der. Hell, when's the last time you even got laid? Which would also be fine, except it's not, because you're miserable and it's obvious that's not what you really want."

Sometimes Derek has a hard time following Erica's logic. Unfortunately, this is not one of those moments.

"It doesn't matter," he says, digging the excess rice out from his wrap. "I'm better off alone."

Erica and Boyd share a look. Derek feels a pang of envy at the way they so easily read each other's thoughts and their mutual love and support. He'd always fancied himself a romantic, but to finally find his mate only to be rejected flat out hurts worse than anything Kate had put him through. Which… well, it says a lot.

Boyd nudges the envelope towards the remains of Derek's burrito. "Do what's right to you." And just like that, he changes the subject as they argue over whether Brees or Brady will end the season with the most touchdown passes and have the better chance of securing a berth in the Super Bowl.

~*~

Minutes after Derek sets foot inside JFK, he remembers why he hates flying. It's the noise and the stress, the smell of impatience and sweat, and the lack of personal space as he waits to clear security. He jams his beanie down to cover his ears, and the glower he's wearing doesn't help the dubious looks being cast his way. By the time he reaches the concourse, he has to duck into a coffee shop to catch a break from all the commotion.

He's standing in line, trying to decide whether he'd rather have a green or carrot smoothie, when someone's suitcase catches his heel.

"Shit! Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" The stranger pulls back the offending piece of luggage, and Derek suddenly catches a whiff of a familiar scent amongst the flurry of clothing and limbs. "Are you okay?  I'm not exactly graceful on most days, but I'm working on like two hours of sleep and… " The man's voice trails off as he meets Derek's gaze, his whiskey-colored eyes widening further. "Derek?" he squeaks.

"Stiles," Derek answers, his voice equally strangled.

Stiles blows out a deep breath. "Oh, wow. What are the chances?" he mutters. His face turns blotchy.

Derek's wolf is pawing at his chest, begging Derek to not waste this second chance. "Uh… seeing as we're both here, I'm going to repeat my offer. For the drink. And a meal, if you'd like. Although I guess it's more like a grab and go." He's stumbling over his words and he feels the tips of his ears heat.

Stiles glances at the breakfast wraps and fruit bowls displayed behind the plexiglass counter. He pastes on a grin, although it seems strained at the edges. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, man; that'd be great." He orders an OJ and an egg wrap, while Derek finally decides on the green smoothie.

"Is that all you're getting?" Stiles asks after an awkward moment of silence.

Derek shrugs. "I ate before I got here. But you can order something else. I'm in a generous mood."

"Haha, big spender. I mean… " Stiles ducks his head and bites his lower lip. Derek watches helplessly as it reddens and swells. "Doesn't your daughter or wife want something, too?"

"I don't have a daughter or a wife," Derek says, his brow furrowing. "Or a girlfriend or a boyfriend, for that matter."

Stiles' mouth drops. "But who was the girl you were with at the book signing?"

Everything starts to slot together. Derek lets out a small chuckle of relief. "Hailey? She's the love of my life. She also happens to be the daughter of my best friends, Erica and Boyd, and my goddaughter. They couldn't make it to your signing because of a scheduling conflict, and I jumped in as a favor." He hands over a twenty to the cashier and deposits the remaining change in the tip jar, his shoulders suddenly lighter.

"Ohhh." Stiles wheels his bag around as they head out towards the gates. He stays close to Derek and his scent grows brighter and sweeter. "I totally jumped to the wrong conclusion," he confesses with a rueful grin. "And I don't want to make the same mistake twice, so I'm going to ask you straight out: are you heading back to Beacon Hills? Because if you are, I'd like to take you to a real dinner. If you're interested, of course," he hastens. "If not, that's cool, too—"

Derek stops and places his hand on Stiles' arm. "I happen to be going back to Beacon Hills. And I'm definitely interested."

A quick check of their tickets shows they're on the same flight into Sacramento International. When they reach the gate, Derek marches up to the counter and trades in his first-class ticket for a business-class seat next to Stiles. He hurries back to the waiting area, flashing a 'thumbs up' sign and grinning like a loon. The look of pure joy that lights up Stiles' face makes Derek's wolf howl with glee.

"So I was curious... why did you choose Mieczyslaw as your nom de plume?" Derek asks as he sits, resting his bag on the floor between them.

Stiles huffs out a laugh. "Mieczyslaw is my name—at least, it's the one I was born with. But it was too complicated to say, so my best friend Scott nicknamed me 'Stiles' when we were younger." He shrugs, as if to say, the rest is history. "Anyway, I wrote The Fox and the Spark for Scott and Allison's son and they finally convinced me to submit it to a publisher. I really didn't think it would go anywhere, and it seemed like it would be less of a rejection if I sent it as 'Mieczyslaw' instead of 'Stiles'."

"And then you ended up with a best-seller," Derek finishes with a grin. He stares at the label on his cup, rubbing an edge that's grown worn from condensation. "Hailey's favorite book is The Fox and the Spark. But I think I'm partial to your latest. The one where a boy builds a wolf out of snow and wishes he'd come to life."

Stiles sucks in a deep breath. "It's based on one of my greatest memories."

"The memory of a wolf? Or someone else?"

Stiles' cheeks stain a beautiful pink. "Uh, a little bit of both? I've always been drawn to wolves, but I've also never forgotten how nice you were to me at Cora's party. I mean, you're Derek Hale—Cora's cool, older brother. I kind of built you up after that, turned our meeting into some kind of mythos, but even then I hadn't been prepared for you to be so…" He gestures with his long, graceful fingers up and down Derek's torso. "I mean, look at you. You're ridiculously hot, plus you were so amazing with your goddaughter. You probably work saving kittens or puppies or endangered wildlife or something—"

Derek coughs. "People. I'm an EMT."

"See! I mean, your fucking perfect. It's a good thing I didn't know all these things before, because otherwise, like, mind blown." Stiles mimes an explosion with his hands.

"I'm hardly special. Although I do have a book written about me. How many people can say that?" Derek teases.

"Yeah." Stiles' grin fades slightly, his hands falling to his sides. "About that. I know it must seem weird, but I'm not some obsessed fan, I promise."

Derek shakes his head. It's too early to tell Stiles about werewolves and their mates, but he wants Stiles to know that the feeling is mutual. That Stiles' story is the same one Derek's been living in since they first met.

"It's okay, Stiles. I feel the same way, too." Emboldened, he takes Stiles' hand in his, his eyes dropping to Stiles' mouth as his mate licks his lips.

"Dude," Stiles whispers, awed.

~*~

By the time they touch down in Sacramento, Derek's learned all about Stiles' closest friends. He learns that Scott is a werewolf as well, though bitten and not born, and that Stiles is considered part of Scott's pack. He's surprised to know that the infamous Lydia Martin is now one of Stiles' closest confidants, and that they'd briefly dated before deciding they were better off as friends. He also discovers that the Sheriff who busted Derek and his friends on Senior Prank Day (and let them off with a warning) is none other than Stiles' dad.

Derek and Stiles eventually connect the dots and realize that Stiles' friend Isaac went to the same college as, and remains friendly with, Erica and Boyd. He's happy to know that Stiles also lives in New York, on the Upper West Side near Riverside Park, which happens to be one of Derek's favorite places to jog. And he discovers other things about Stiles—like how Stiles is ticklish along his sides (just below the curve of his lowest rib), and how his lips are just as soft as they look, and how Stiles goes absolutely crazy when Derek scents and mouths his neck.

In fact, by the time they disembark, their mutual attraction is pretty much apparent to everybody—including the Sheriff, who pointedly avoids looking at Stiles' neck, and Laura, who just laughs.

Stiles lifts the hem of his scarf to hide the evidence, his cheeks flaming. Derek's just glad that neither the Sheriff or his sister can see the other places Derek's marked.

"Looks like you've finally found a flight you enjoyed, baby bro," Laura says as she wraps her arm around his shoulders and squeezes. "I'm so glad you're home."

Derek closes his eyes and breathes Laura in, his wolf settling at the smell of her shampoo, the warmth of his skin, and the feeling of home. "Me too."

Laura nuzzles the crook of his neck. "You smell different," she says as she leans back, her gaze sharp and assessing.

Derek glances at Stiles, who looks over to Derek at exactly the same time and waves at him with a blinding grin. "Um, yeah. About that..."

"I don't mean in that way," Laura says, wrinkling her nose. "Although he is a cutie. What I mean is that you smell... happy."

"I am," Derek says, realizing he means it. He can't wait to introduce Stiles to the rest of his family and begin formally courting his mate. But for now, he and Stiles know they have something special. They've entered the next chapter of their lives, one that already has a great beginning.

And the romantic in Derek knows this story will have a happy ending.

[perditaalottachocolate-blog]

Spring Fever (8)

@adrinetteapril 2019 story

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | art | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | art | 18 | 19 | 20 |

AO3 / fanfiction.net

Chapter 8. A birthday gift

In which Adrien gets a part

'I… you..gah!’ Marinette flailed scrambling to her feet. Out of the corner of his eyes Adrien saw a red flash inside the chest. It looked like a cute plushie, with big blue eyes and a black spot on the top of the bulbous head. Its shape reminded him a bit of Plagg, but he couldn’t be sure, since Marinette closed the lid with an angry thump. Then she turned around and sank onto the chest where she released a ragged breath.

'That’s just my… um… my old chest, haha,’ she kicked the box with her heel. 'Phew, I almost jumped right of my skin,’ she sighed. She brushed the loose strands of her hair behind her ears, casting him an anxious glance. Her skin paled, making the redness of her cheeks more pronounced. Was she… embarrassed?

Oh god, she was! He made a fool of himself by trying to kiss her out of the blue and now she’d hate him forever! Trying to stomp down on his disappointment that he hadn’t get to taste those soft, enticing lips Adrien moved as far away from the girl as the invisible tether allowed. He had no idea how he would get that curing kiss now. He’d rather die than mention in after what just had transpired between them.

'Good thing you weren’t near it,’ he pointed out, deciding to divert her attention. 'That’s an accident ready to happen. You need to replace that spring.’

'Yeah,’ Marinette muttered. 'Though I was hoping on having a word with it first. Doesn’t matter,’ she shook her head. 'You mentioned a cure to your… um… state.’

Ah, so much for diversion. Adrien felt all his courage retreating under the sheer force of shame at what he had attempted.

'Y-yes, a cure,’ he nodded, desperately trying to think of a way out. 'I just thought that… I thought… since you’re the one I’m bound to, maybe you can think of a way to… um… free me?’

'To free you…’ Marinette hummed. She stood up and started pacing around the room.

The chaise Adrien was seated on jolted under him and with a screech it started moving after the girl.

'Um…’ he said. 'Marinette?’

She halted and turned to see him. He planted his feet firmly on the floor and wedged his hands under the sofa in an attempt not to chase after her.

'Sorry! I forgot!’

'It’s okay,’ he waved a hand, and the chaise budged a bit. 'But you see my most pressing problem now. I need to go home at some point. Everyone at the mansion is probably already freaking out.’

As if on cue his phone chimed angrily. Marinette backed away, startled by the sound. The chaise jerked after her. Adrien doubled his efforts to stay in place. 'I’m not gonna answer that now,’ he grunted. Who needs a gym if they can have a nice work-out trying not to get too close to the love of their lives?

The girl just stood there, on the other side of the room, her gaze shifting between him and the chest. Then something flashed in her eyes, something strikingly familiar, although Adrien couldn’t recall why.

'So… you think you’ve been enchanted…’ she was thinking out loud.

'Not enchanted. Infected,’ he corrected.

Marinette sent him a long, flat stare. He realized what he just said.

'Enchanted is a way of putting it, too!’ he chirped.

A shadow of smirk danced on her lips. ’And you believe I can help you?’

He nodded eagerly. At that point he would believe if she told him toys could fly. Because the red plushie was now sitting innocently on the desk, when just a few moments ago it definitely was inside the chest. But maybe Marinette just made more of them?

The girl’s smile turned sly at his silent confirmation. 'Then I have something that should let you get home or wherever you need to be right now. It should be enough until we figure out how to free you entirely.’

Adrien perked up. ‘Really?’

She crossed the room and carefully opened the chest. When she turned to him, she was holding a small pack, about the size of a CD box, wrapped in pink polka dotted paper and tied with a dark pink ribbon. It looked very much like a gift.

‘Here,’ she passed him the package. ‘Happy birthday,’ she murmured.

‘That’s in, like, six months,’ he remembered, tenderly brushing the ribbon with his thumbs. He had no idea why, but just holding this package made his heart swell.

‘I know,’ Marinette said timidly. ‘I wanted to be prepared.’

Adrien untied the ribbon and reverently put it aside. Then he slowly unwrapped the paper. There was a birthday card at the top, bearing Marinette’s curly handwriting and a signature next to a doodle of a cake with a little ladybug sitting on in. He smiled at that and put the card away as well. Then he finally inspected the contents.

‘Oh, wow, just… wow,’ he gasped.

He simply couldn’t take his eyes off of her gift. His fingers ran over the soft, baby blue cotton and traced the stylish embroidery. He had seen similar items in his father’s drawer many times. Old-fashioned and cherished. Nowadays deemed impractical, but still beautiful. Simple, classy and personal. The handkerchief that he was holding bore a monogram of curvy “AA”. A second little ladybug accompanied the letters, seemingly flying over the material as if it was the summer sky. Her path had been marked with red stitching.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ he finally whispered. ‘This is absolutely stunning, Marinette! I love-... it! I love it!’

His voice quivered and he felt moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes. It was simply the most amazing thing anyone had given him. And it was clearly crafted by her own hand, as evidenced in the characteristic “M” skillfully hidden on the other side of the handkerchief, embroidered in blue, glossy thread.

She beamed at him from the window. A rosy hue tinted her cheeks. ‘This is something I’ve made for you and you only,’ she said. ‘I’d like to believe there’s a part of me in this gift.’

He couldn’t help but to smile as he held the handkerchief. The most precious gift. A part of her. For him.

‘When you take this with you,’ Marinette continued, ‘it’s as if you took a part of me.’

His eyes lit up in comprehension. ‘Brilliant,’ he murmured, still gently brushing the material. ‘Simply brilliant.’

A wave of affection washed over him, pouring warmth into his limbs. He would have pulled her into a hug if he wasn’t afraid he would never let go. What had he done to deserve this girl in his life? Was there an end to her kindness?

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ Marinette asked.

‘Like what?’ Uh-oh, was he staring? He wanted to savor the view of the love of his life as she smiled happy and bright. Was he making her uncomfortable?

She shrugged. ‘Like I was some kind of hero or something.’

“Or something”? Adrien felt the sudden urge to show her how important, how dear she was to him. She should know how special, how talented, how amazing she was.

‘I already told you, you are. Marinette, I… ‘ he hesitated, not sure where his heart was leading him. It might be the fever talking, but the real Marinette was listening.

‘Yes?’

‘You are an amazing person, and I really l- like…’ he shook his head. He almost slipped. ‘I admire you.’ He cast her an anxious look. Could she hear the frantic beating of his heart?

She was keeping her distance now, fidgeting in place and nervously nibbling on her lower lip. The moment of silence suddenly seemed awkward and poignant at the same time. It was Marinette who spoke first.

‘Adrien,’ she breathed slowly. ‘I l-... I like you too!’ she stuttered. ‘I’m glad you’re my friend and that you came to me. Even if you didn’t have a choice,’ she chuckled.

‘I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else anyway,’ he smiled ducking his head, happy and disappointed at the same time. If she told him she liked him yesterday, he’d be over the moon, but today the “friend” that followed was like a painful jab, a reminder where his place was.

A phone rang in his pocket. ‘Well, that’s my cue. Thanks for the wonderful talisman,’ he pressed the handkerchief to his chest, resisting the urge to plant a kiss on the soft material. He was never going to put it away, and not just because he’d be pulled straight to Marinette back again.

The girl crossed her fingers. ‘I hope the handkerchief works.’

‘It’s your idea. Of course it will work. See?’ he added taking a few steps away and down the stairs.

Nothing happened. No magical pull. No heat wave. Ah, freedom. Relative, but still.

‘I hope you won’t get into trouble,’ Marinette called after him.

‘Me, too. But oh well, there’s nothing I can do about it now,’ he shrugged. ‘At least I can go home thanks to you. Imagine how awkward it would be to explain to our parents why I need to move to your room,’ he added as a way of good bye.

As the door closed behind him he heard something that sounded like, “Oh, I wouldn’t mind that at all”. And just like that, the sweat and blush were back.